It's like he's all that
by SweetG
Summary: Stiles is different. Stiles is not nice under any definition of the word, he's such an asshole. Sure, he's a good guy deep down, but he's so- "Fuck off, Derek." Stiles tells him without sparing him a glance when Derek sits next to him on chemistry. "I'm not up to play She's All That with you, dude." -yeah. (School crushes are so complicated.)


Derek is a teenager werewolf. And a jock.

One fact is probably more relevant to this story than the other. And it's probably not the one you're thinking of, because if Derek has to be honest? He's been a werewolf his whole life, and that's not any sort of news for him, there's no novelty in that, and he's already used to the life of secrecy; and, okay, now and then he goes a little furry and howls at the moon, and sometimes he gets these surges of emotion he has to work every ounce of his being into exhaustion to control, but that's the way life has always been for him and his.

The jock thing, however? That's a newer development, part of his high school experience.

* * *

Okay, so Derek? He's kind of a total n00b when it comes to actually seducing people or to effectively wooing them. A complete novice. A blank slate. Because have you seen that face? That body? That cocky confidence? That boy's a winner. Winners don't do much wooing.

So he's kind of at a loss, because his usual tactic is to wink at the people he likes, or to be very blunt, pull a 'hey, come over to my house so we can study', and well. It works. Because most people want to get all up on the star of the basketball team. It's how high school works, with the cliques and the social structures and hierarchies and stuff.

And that tends to be it because repeat performances demand effort and he's generally thinking about family or school or sports (he's a growing, teenage lycanthrope boy, after all), and he parts amicably with his hook ups because he's a nice guy deep down and he's attracted to nice people, but—

Stiles is different. Stiles is not nice under any definition of the word, he's such an asshole. Sure, he's a good guy deep down, he punched Jackson square in the jaw when he mocked the McCall kid for an asthma attack that one time, and Derek knows he helped Erica Reyes get that video of her seizure taken down, but he's so—

"Fuck off, Derek." Stiles tells him without sparing him a glance when Derek sits next to him on chemistry. "I'm not up to play She's All That with you, dude. Go stick your tongue down some cheerleader's throat and leave me alone."

— yeah.

* * *

"You could bring him flowers!" Laura says, when she picks him up on her sleek black camaro that makes all the other kids in school drool. "People love flowers. You could write him a poem."

"Oh God, Laura, shut up." He groans and covers his face with his hands so he won't have to see the annoying glee on her face. "He hates me. Hates me. And I don't even know why."

* * *

Stiles kind of doesn't?

Or at first at least, he definitely doesn't. He's too busy working out a way to make Jackson fall off a cliff ("a small one, okay? Stop looking at me like that, Scott, I'm not that much of an asshole." ), and the way to ask Danny out, because well. Danny is cute and funny and sort of a dick to him? But Stiles is sort of a dick too, so it all works out fine. And really, he can't be a bad guy, since he helped Scott and him take down Erica's video.

And he's also kind of busy trying to figure out what the hell's going on out at the preserve because he was out there one night a few weeks ago and he can swear he saw a wolf, only there aren't any wolves in California, so…

And there's this new girl, Allison? And she's a sweetheart, and pretty hot, and Scott is kind of lost in love with her but he hasn't even talked to her yet, and Stiles has to work out a way to make that happen, because bros, y'know?

And Lydia. Always Lydia. Because he might be crushing hard on Danny right now, but Lydia is a strawberry blonde goddess brought from the future to solve humankind's problems and Stiles just wants her to, like, acknowledge his existence.

So, yeah, Derek winking at him when he passes him by on the halls doesn't really rank in his top priorities at first. Doesn't even make it that much into his radar, practically doesn't register, past a fleeting 'does he have something in his eye?'.

* * *

But then one day Derek forgoes all subtlety and traps him between his arms in a cheesy move straight out of a lifetime movie and asks him out, voice so flirty and filled with intent it'd probably get them suspended if Harris saw them and Stiles is… what, shocked?

No, that's not the word. He's not shocked.

He's kind of baffled, because what the fuck he never thought these things happened out of cheesy 80s movies.

"No." He says, and he tries not to laugh at Derek's face, because he really can't believe Derek would've thought him both so dim and so desperate. "I don't go out on dates with loser jocks, man, tough luck."

* * *

Derek is heart broken. He's just, wow. He's got these feelings, you know? These weird, dichotomous feelings. Because on one hand, he's kind of outraged at having been called a loser by a lacrosse bench warmer. And on the other one, fuck, Stiles is so, so… just, so brave and outspoken and loud, and even though Derek is his own brand of confident, Stiles has him beat, because he doesn't have his sports and his name and his everything to back him up, he's just that kid that's on the Honor Roll, but's always losing against the Martin girl, and he's the sheriff's kid that most other students don't really want to invite to parties because— well, self explanatory, right?

And he's still got that attitude, that spark in his eyes, and that leer of his mouth when he looked at Derek and fucking called him a loser.

So he's— impressed. Because at first he was attracted to Stiles' lips, to the bow of them; and to his big, expressive eyes; and then to the curl of his big hands and his long fingers (and he's a teenager, okay? he's a teenager and he can't help jerking off to thoughts of Stiles' long, nimble fingers wrapped around him; thank God for sound proof walls on werewolf households); and then he kind of stumbled upon Stiles changing clothes after lacrosse practise and there was all that mole covered skin and those lean muscles, and the roundness of his—

So at first it was merely physical. Derek saw, Derek wanted, Derek went for it because why not?

But now Derek is fixated. And it's gone way past the physical, it's not even a phase, it's this big, quivery, awful thing that coils and uncoils in his stomach whenever he catches a glimpse of Stiles, when he does something ridiculous and quirky, or when he does something unexpected and it's the worst.

And Stiles just told him that he wouldn't go out with him, and called him a loser. And it was public, and it was meant to be humiliating, and it was? Kind of? A little? But not in the way Stiles meant it, probably, and the thing is Derek can't bring himself to just forget about Stiles and move on.

Because on the third mutant hand, that gesture just was the final nail in the coffin that's Derek falling head over heels for Stiles.

And now Derek is so, so, so fucked, because he wants and he doesn't know how to get, for the first time in ever, and that's probably going to be his own undoing.

And then there's this, this thing Stiles seems to have for Mahealani, and that's— fuck, that's not even upsetting to him, that's just unfair and it makes him bitter and jealous.

* * *

School crushes are so complicated.

But whatever, Derek is a resilient, a tough guy, and of course he keeps trying, even though Stiles just keeps dismissing him time and time again.

And it turns into a thing.

* * *

Derek sits next to Stiles in chem and Stiles groans and changes seats; Derek scores the winning points in a game and fucking dedicates his performance to Stiles with opulent gestures and wide grins that make Stiles roll his eyes; Derek offers to do things (both big and inane) for him, and Stiles mimics wringing his neck because why can't this guy just take a hint.

* * *

(They are kind of really, scarily similar in that respect.)

* * *

And sooner rather than later, it turns into all the BHHS gossip mill can talk about, like, will the weird Stilinski kid and basketball star Hale finally get it on? What the fuck is going on there? Is this a Carrie scenario waiting to happen?

It's simultaneously horrible and hilarious and Stiles just wants out.

* * *

"One date, just one. And after, if you want me to leave you alone, I swear I will." Derek tells him one day, basically cornering him after lacrosse practice ("Jesus fucking Christ, dude, you have to stop doing the sneaking up thing on me."), and he's got that air of self-assurance that used to get on Stiles' nerves before but for some reason doesn't that much nowadays, but underneath Stiles can sense a softness and a vulnerable edge that is both intriguing and frustrating, because Stiles doesn't have time for this, okay? He doesn't have time for Derek and his ploys.

"Please," Derek says, and Stiles wants to say no again, and to make it crushing this time, so Derek will get it through his thick skull, but then he looks at Derek's hands by his sides, at the way his fingers twitch as if wanting to reach out but don't and it's… nice of him. And Stiles curses internally because he's about to make a stupid choice, and he's surely gonna regret it, but…

"Okay, Derek. One date."

And Derek's face does this thing, goes through a prism of micro expressions, like he wasn't actually expecting Stiles to agree, and when he ultimately sets for a bright, beaming smile and tells him he won't regret it, Stiles feels his stomach sinking.

Because he will.

He's already doing it.

* * *

And the gossip mill goes insane, all the Stilinski kid finally said yes, and all what is going to happen now, and all how is this going to end, do you think sheriff Stilinski will jail the guy if it's all an elaborate joke?

* * *

Derek is freaking the fuck out.

He's just a kid with a basketball, deep down. He's just the middle kid that got roped into doing whatever Laura wanted as kids, and now gets roped into doing whatever Cora wants, because she's as headstrong as her, if not more.

He's the son that Talia raised to be a gentle soul, and a good beta to Laura's alpha, and underneath the cocky façade and the high school masks and the popularity, he just really wants Stiles to like him back.

And he's heard the rumors, okay? And he wouldn't. He would never. He's not like that.

He's a jock, yes, that's true, but he's not cruel. He doesn't make fun of freshmen, and he doesn't play cruel 'pranks' on other kids, and he doesn't target the band geeks, or whatever. He maybe doesn't do as much as he could do to stop others, he'll admit to that, but he actually didn't realize that made him part of the problem until recently.

(Until that one day Stiles looked him dead in the eye and told him, "you never stop them, man, that kinda makes you an accomplice to them." after Jackson pulled a jackass move in front of them and Derek… well, he didn't do anything.)

So, yeah, now he's a complete cliché too, Stiles (and Scott, to an extent, he guesses, because Derek now knows that most of Stiles' good conscience comes from the boy) has made him want to be a better person.

So he's freaking out, because Stiles agreed just to get him off his back, and Derek doesn't know how to not fuck this up, and if he does, he'll have to stick to his promise and leave Stiles alone, and then Stiles will go back to aggressively flirting with Mahealani at every chance, and he probably won't survive that.

* * *

"You will, you drama king, calm the fuck down," Laura tells him when she picks him up that day; and maybe, just maybe, Derek should consider to stop telling these things to his sister. "Just take him somewhere nice, behave yourself, and try not to wolf out or whatever."

* * *

So, the date? Is an actual veritable disaster of epic proportions, and Derek could fucking cry if he wasn't so busy getting all up in Stiles' face and kind of frustratedly not-yelling at him.

"Well, fuck you!" Stiles tells him, as he gets away from Derek and out of the ice rink (Boyd's idea). "Fuck you and the fact that you think that everyone has to fucking bend to your will because you're fucking popular and hot and good at sports."

Derek could tear his hair apart, could fucking literally pull Stiles' hair until he hissed at him and stayed quiet for two seconds, so Derek could maybe try to get himself through to him, or just fucking kiss him until he understood how stupid he's about him.

"I just said that—"

"That I should stop trying so hard, I fucking heard you the first time, you asshole." Stiles spits at him, while he takes his skates off, "And I'm telling you to fuck off, because you have no right to tell me that. You've been fucking trailing after me for whatever twisted reason for months, Derek. Months. And now you pull this crap? Like you have any right to feel like you're better than me, superior? To basically tell me that I'm a loser?"

"I said that you should stop trying so hard to get it on with Mahealani, " he says, going after him, stumbling when he exists the rink, cursing under his breath. "I never said you should stop trying in general, or that you try too hard. Stop putting words in my mouth, Stiles. I—"

"Should shut up, because it's none of your business, you're so frustrating, Derek." Stiles practically spits in his face, and Derek is so, so done.

"Well, so are you. You're so frustrating with all these ideas you have about me that are bullshit."

"Oh, yeah? What ideas would those be, buddy? That you're a jock? That you're a douchebag who doesn't try to stop his peers when they harass the other kids, like my best friend?"

"That I'm not trying to be better! That I'm doing this, going after you, for some preposterous reason, for some fucked up prank or for shits and giggles. That I'm—"

"What? That you're not what? A jock with a heart of gold? A big dude filled with good intentions?"

"—Stupid for you! Completely fucking gone!"

That shuts Stiles up, makes him close his mouth, look at him with wide eyes filled with surprise, and Derek can feel the way his ears are burning, and the way his throat is closing a little.

That's it. He's gone for it, all or nothing.

"What do you…?"

"What I said, Stiles," he replies, and looks Stiles in the eyes, notices the golden flecks there, feels his stomach turn on itself, "I'm so— I'm so in love with you, okay? And I know it sounds ridiculous because we're seventeen and we're kids and still in high school and whatever, but I am. So in love with you.

"You're frustrating and an asshole, and you treat me like garbage more often than not, but I get why, and I know that you're a good guy. I see you with everyone else, with the people you don't assume are out to get you. With Erica, and McCall, and even with Boyd, though he thinks that you're a little shit."

Stiles licks his lips and walks a few steps backwards, as if needing space from him, and it's painful, but understandable. "Derek, I—"

"Let me finish?" He asks, heart on his fucking sleeve, voice rough and trembling like it hasn't been in maybe years; like Stiles keeps digging up parts of himself that haven't seen the light in ages, like he takes Derek out of his status quo and leaves him stranded in the middle of a lot of shit about himself and the world that he doesn't understand. "I can't keep doing this thing were you keep misunderstanding all the things I don't say."

Stiles swallows, scanning his face, eyes flickering up and down, and then nods. Sits down on the bench where he'd changed his shoes, looks up at him expectantly.

"When I told you you should stop trying so hard with Mahealani ("Danny, you douche")— Mahealani, it was because I'm—"

"An asshole?"

He glares at Stiles, raises his eyebrows at him, trying to convey a silent 'really?'. Stiles rolls eyes at him, and he goes on.

"Jealous."

Stiles snorts and Derek glares at him again.

"Yes, jealous. I wasn't trying to imply that you're a loser, or that it was embarrassing or whatever you talked yourself into believing I meant."

Stiles looks like he's about to interrupt, eyes sharp and lips parting, so Derek goes on.

"Because you do that. I don't know why. But since the first time I talked to you, all you've done is assume things about me; assume that you know what I want and what I mean, and you really don't."

"Well," Stiles starts and squints at him. "That's still pretty controlling, dude."

"Yeah, I know." Sighs Derek. "I'll try to keep comments like that one to myself from now on."

Stiles squints his eyes at Derek again at hearing that, and after a while says, "you know that's not an acceptable apology, right?"

And Derek sort of smirks.

"I can't in all honesty apologize about that because I still don't like the fact that you spend every single free moment you have hitting on Mahealani."

"You're such a possessive douche, man, how does nobody know about this?"

And Derek decides to go for broke right there and then because why not? He's already gotten everything else out there in the open.

"Because I've never felt this way for anyone else."

Stiles flushes a little, red staining his pale cheeks, and Derek burns with the desire to touch the trail of heat all along his cheekbones, see where else he gets red and splotchy.

"Wow," he breathes out then, and Derek can… can hear his heart start beating faster, which hadn't happened before and takes him completely by surprise, makes him want to lean closer, listen harder to get all of Stiles' cues. "you are so cheesy. It's a wonder your jock friends still let you sit with them at lunch."

"They're not my friends. Boyd and Isaac are my friends. And you're not gonna distract me from the topic, Stiles."

"Who says I was trying?"

"I know you, you do that when people get closer to you than you're comfortable with. You set them off trail. And it's not gonna work with me."

"Because you're oh so in love with me?"

"Yes," he says, and Stiles' face goes redder and he starts playing with the hem of his shirt. "but also because I want you to get it. That I really pay attention to you and honestly like you, and even though you drive me up the wall and aggravate me like nobody ever has since my sisters, I can't stop thinking about you, about wanting to be with you."

"Aren't you coming on to strong?"

"Says the guy who's been aggressively and relentlessly pursuing his own latest crush for the past two or so months."

Stiles smiles at him then, sincere and debilitating.

"Touché, man." He bites his lip and then soothes it with his tongue, drawing Derek's eyes there. "I guess we're pretty similar in a lot of things, aren't we."

Derek nods, says, "yeah, I guess we are."

Stiles stands up then, walks up to him, and says, "so you're crushing hard on me, huh?"

And Derek is about to say something snarky in reply because what's the point of rubbing his face on this, really, when Derek has basically willingly laid everything that's inside of him in front of Stiles for him to inspect and stomp on and crush; that's just cruel, and he's never known Stiles to be unnecessarily cruel. He doesn't get the chance, however, because as soon as he's opening his mouth, Stiles is closing the distance between them and—

kissing him.

And at first Derek is too shocked to do anything but take a noisy, stuttered breath in, but then it's like a switch turns on inside him and he grabs at Stiles' shoulders, opens his hands over the expanse of them, trying to touch everything all at once, to absorb him, and he's kissing back, desperate, drowning in his taste and his scent, and the feel of him underneath his palms.

When they part, Stiles smirks at him, says, "I might have a tiny bit of a crush on you that I might've been ignoring until now. For reasons. Dumb reasons."

And it's— well, it's not a glorious and romantic declaration of eternal love, but it's Stiles, and Derek could sigh and fucking rub his nose all over Stiles' neck, and just, melt into him, but he limits himself to smiling back at Stiles and saying a wrecked sounding "good", before kissing him again.


End file.
